I can't seem to get over you
by Clemzee
Summary: It's been a couple of years since Reichenbach and John finally feels that he's moved on enough to start dating again. Problem is that every time John goes out with someone, Mycroft interferes because he knows his brother is still alive. Sherlock/John.


**A/N: I'm not english speaking. This has been written for this prompt in the sherlockbbc-fic livejournal (sorry, can't link).**

_**It's been a couple of years since Reichenbach and John finally feels that he's moved on enough to start dating again. Problem is that every time John goes out with someone, Mycroft interferes in the most Mycroft-ian ways possible.**_

_**This is, of course, because Mycroft knows Sherlock is alive and wouldn't take well to John dating someone else when he eventually comes back from the "dead".**_

_**Bonus if poor confused John mistakenly thinks it means Mycroft fancies him.**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock nor any of the characters.**

* * *

><p>So many times in the last few months John had tried to move on with his life. Sherlock had been dead for over two years now – two years, three months, seventeen days and about 6 hours – and John knew that it was natural at this point to start dating again. He just didn't feel like it. Until about 2 months ago that is.<p>

The first time he had taken a cab to get to a bar he used to go when he was younger, before he went to Afghanistan. He couldn't even cross the threshold. He went back home five minutes later and went to sleep.

It always took him several hours after deciding to try meeting someone new to get ready because he couldn't help but feeling a little guilty about the whole thing. He had dated Sherlock for only six months before the consulting detective died, but John knew that, even if they didn't date for that long, he'd lost the love of his life that day. He could feel it even more now that he was gone.

The second time he had tried, he had stumbled across Sherlock's violin and had ended up lying on the couch, eyes closed and imagining Sherlock playing for him.

God he missed him.

But by the third time, after he convinced himself that it was about time, he successfully went to a bar. He sat on a stool near the counter and waited for a while. He ordered one drink, then a second and started to think that it was enough of a progress for one night. When he really felt like going home, a young blonde woman came across and sat by his side.

She was actually surprisingly charming. And really pretty too. John was trying not to focus on the fact that she was nothing compared to Sherlock. Sherlock was dead and he had to accept it. He was just here to get back in the game.

"Let's go back to my place." John could lie to himself all he wanted; he couldn't deny that the woman was attractive. It had been too long since the last… Time, and he was only human after all. "Ok." John said before following Emma – because that was her name apparently – out of the bar.

"Taxi !" A black cab parked in front of them. Another longer black car followed right behind. It seemed a little i_too/i_ familiar to John. When Anthea – or whatever her real name was – got out of the car, John knew nothing would go according to plan.

A minute later Emma was in the cab heading home – her home – and John was sitting next to Anthea in the other car. "So, what does Mycroft want this time?" Anthea, still typing on her blackberry, took a few seconds to answer that.

John had regularly heard of Sherlock's brother these past two years and he was now used to his… eccentric manners. "He'll tell you himself." John didn't even know why he asked at this point, he never learnt anything from Mycroft's assistant… Secretary… Right hand… Whatever Anthea was.

John was dropped ten minutes later and he had absolutely no idea where he was. It was a kind of a warehouse. John spotted Mycroft standing up a few feet away and walk towards him as he spoke. "You know you don't have to go through all this trouble." He pointed out the landscape with his arms.

"You don't have to hide from… Anyone." John started off to say Sherlock but he still couldn't go through with it. Really, it was still too painful to mention Sherlock, especially in front of Mycroft, and he could only imagine the feeling was mutual.

"I know Doctor Watson." John could only guess it was just his way. After all, he knew for a fact that Mycroft wasn't only i_occupying a minor position in the British government/i _so he was probably simply too used to it to act normal. Seemed like it ran in the family.

"I guess you wanted to see me." John was now at the appropriate distance from Mycroft for a real normal conversation. "Yes, yes." Mycroft said, playing with the umbrella he always seemed to have with him, and really John was starting to wonder if he hadn't a tiny camera hidden in it.

"I heard that you were still looking for a job, considering that you didn't move out of 221B Baker Street, and I'm here to offer you one." John looked surprised for a quick second. "Oh. Ok. And it was so urgent because…" John started, waiting for Mycroft to complete the sentence and explain himself.

John should've known that Mycroft would do no such thing. Instead he smiled and raised an eyebrow, as if seeing the dear Doctor Watson still hoping to get that kind of answers was deeply amusing.

"You'll start Monday then. Anthea will fill you in." John didn't waste any breath in sighing. He was used to it by know and the eccentric ways of Mycroft reminded him of Sherlock's. It was nice, in a really annoying sort of way.

The next Friday night, John went out again. He got a girl's number and they actually kind of hit it off. She was really nice, a bit plain he had to admit but after all, maybe it was exactly what he needed. He was starting to get a little too old for the things he used to do with Sherlock. He knew it was what he was supposed to want; settling down with a nice normal girl.

And so he started to think he was lucky to have found a girl like that.

Until she practically got erased from the surface of the Earth, that is. She said she would call John but never did and when John tried calling her, he got a wrong number.

A few weeks after that, there was a colleague of his that was pretty cute. He asked her out once and the next day, she didn't show up at work. Apparently she resigned her job.

John was starting to wonder if he was cursed or something.

A month later, he asked another girl on a date. Mycroft summoned him in his office at the precise time and day of the date. John wasn't especially the kind of person to be paranoid, but he had to admit that this was getting a little weird. One could only be so unfortunate, you know. The worst of it was that the whole thing was… Creepy. Too many coincidences. If he hadn't known Mycroft better and knew he had been happily married for years he would have been suspicious.

After all, this was the kind of creepy things he would do.

Anyway he had to postpone the date and went down to Mycroft's office. He waited for a while before Mycroft let him in. He took a sit as told and cleared his throat. "Good evening." John said after shaking Mycroft's hand. Sherlock's brother shook slightly his head and sat down behind his office in silence.

John simply waited. He knew he couldn't get anything else out of Mycroft than what Mycroft himself wanted to give away. "My dear Doctor Watson, as you are well aware of, Sherlock has disappeared for over two years now…"

John looked surprised. He was always uncomfortable when someone tried to talk to him about Sherlock. He didn't like to be reminded that he had loved and lost. "Yeah, yeah, I know. What are you saying?" Mycroft stood up only to go sit down on his desk, in front of John. The army doctor raised his eyes to meet Mycroft's gaze.

"I know you started dating again, Doctor Watson." Ok so this was… Awkward. John had a whole list of things he didn't want to talk about and he was pretty sure that talking about dating with his i_brother-in-law/i_ was at the top of it.

He looked back and took a few files from his desk. He handed them to John and it took a few seconds to the army doctor to realize why the names printed on the files were a bit familiar. "That's… That's the girls… How did you know… Wait a second. What did you do to them?" Mycroft looked nothing else but slightly amused.

"Nothing, Doctor Watson. I simply… Offered them a small compensation to… Get them out of the way." And really John didn't like the way Mycroft raised his eyebrows. He felt like his brother-in-law was trying to tell him something but he was pretty sure he didn't want to hear nor understand it.

John tried to sit back on his chair. Ok, maybe he was just imagining the whole thing. After all, Mycroft was married, he knew that. He checked his fingers and saw that Mycroft was still wearing his wedding ring. It didn't change the intense way he was now staring at him. "Why would you do that?" John asked finally, because he had to make sure.

"Let's just say that I care." Mycroft smiled and John shivered a little bit. He stood up and took a few steps back. He rested his hands on the back of his chair. "Ok, listen, I'm really not interested. I mean, it's not that I don't… Like you. It's just that it would be too weird, it's hard enough as is it without…"

John was almost relieved when Mycroft interrupted him. Apparently he said something funny because Mycroft was actually i_laughing/i_ a little bit. "No, Doctor Watson, it's a simple misunderstanding. I care about i_Sherlock/i_, as you well know."

John had never been more embarrassed in his entire life. "I… I don't understand." He sighed. "Sherlock is… Dead." John couldn't even believe he was saying that out loud. God, it still hurt, so badly. He looked down to the floor as if he couldn't even bear to meet Mycroft's gaze.

"No, John, I'm not." John startled because that was a really impressive impersonation of Sherlock. He heard a door closed behind him and turned around. He just stayed speechless for about thirty seconds.

The man that was walking slowly towards him was a little thinner and a little paler than the Sherlock John used to know but there was not a single doubt in John's mind. How? How? He couldn't. That's how. John had seen Sherlock die. It happened just in front of him for crying out loud! He couldn't… He just couldn't!

John turned around to see Mycroft's reaction. He didn't look surprised, not even slightly. That bastard. He knew, he had known all along and he didn't tell him. Two years. Two years! John looked back at Sherlock.

He didn't hug nor kiss him. He didn't ask him how he could be standing here in front of him. He slapped him right in the face. John went to war, he knew ways to hurt someone more than that, but he didn't really want to. Sherlock didn't react and John was grateful for that.

"Two. Fucking. YEARS." That was all he was able to say before he leaned in and captured Sherlock's lips. He pulled him closer, putting his hands around Sherlock's waist. His smell was still so intoxicating it almost hurt to get it back again without any warning.

For the past two years, John had dreamt about this too many times. Really, too many times. But his expectations were far from reality; this was a million times better. It was real. Sherlock's lips tasted exactly like before. He had still the same habit of sliding his tongue over John's lips as if he was asking permission.

Needless to say, John let him.

* * *

><p><strong>I really hope you enjoyed it and don't hesitate to point out any remaining mistakes :D<strong>


End file.
